Love Remains

Remember, back in January, when I posted the abandoned house with the Love graffiti?  Well, the house came down this week.  All that appears to remain is a pile of rubble. 

When I last posted, I was struggling a bit. The Fig was gaining momentum, and seemed poised to take a good turn.  While we were taking a work break, I was not being honest with myself or you when I stated, we’ll be back.

To further explain, I need to go further back.  My mom had been in assisted living for a week and I was puttering alone at The Fig barn.  And there was a voice.  Not an audible voice, but a  thought.  A thought that was loud and clear.  Very loud and very clear.  An unbidden thought that was intrusive and unwelcome.  Your work here is done. 

I stopped in my tracks – your work here is done.  I shook my head, as if I could un-hear what I had heard.  But here’s the thing, you can not un-hear what you have heard.  While I tried to shake the thought,  the thought shook me.

I went home and told my voice of reason (aka husband).  His response – your mom has just gone into assisted living, it’s been a very hard week, don’t read too much into it.

The Fig commitments were fulfilled, a table was built, time was taken off.  My mind still swirled with ideas.  But to reiterate the thing –  I could not un-hear what I had heard. 

So a tentative hiatus was taken from the business.  And what I knew deep down, I could not say out loud.  (because you know, saying things out loud makes them truer, right?).  In fact, it is only in the past few weeks that when asked about the business, I can answer honestly.  I can say it out loud and not feel sad.

My world has shifted in the past year.  (Actually, our worlds are always shifting, agree?)  I spend a lot of time in my car these days.  I drive my high school freshman to her school thirty minutes from home – two one-hour round trips for me each day.   And I go to Angier – except it is not to the farm, and The Fig barn with my mom across the road.  It is to town, where my mom now resides. 

with my mom and daughter

And Frankie, amazing Frankie.  Let me give you an update. 

One of my dear childhood friends is a farmer, up the road from The Fig.   Frankie has been his girl Friday for awhile.  Literally, she was the girl who would go in on Fridays to help with his payroll and paperwork.  Well, now she is not only girl Friday, but also girl Monday, girl Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  She still does the paperwork, but she also does lots of things like drives a big tractor.  Yep, you read this right…she drives a tractor!  She is still a thriving, hard-working, holy wonder.

Now when we get together, we are not covered in paint and sawdust, but rather presentable for public restaurants and such. 

Holy Wonder meets Tractor

Remember, at the beginning of this lengthy post, when I said that all that appears to remain of the Love house is rubble.  Things are not always as they appear, eh?  

Sometimes, when things fall down, rubble is not all that remains.  Love remains, folks.  Love remains.

june

PS – And the barn cats, you ask?  They have adjusted quite nicely to a cushy suburban life.  (I am indebted to my voice of reason  for allowing me to practice cat herding skills on a daily basis)

PSPS – While ideas still dance in my head, ‘tis the season for a measure of pragmatism.  The essentials, if you will.  Driver, laundress, chef on the home front.  Daughter who visits her mom and bends the straw, holds the cup.  Daughter who softens from dutiful to privileged.

I plan to continue writing.  A lot less furniture, a lot more season of essentials stuff.  Thank you, dear readers.